Sweden is mentioned in 15 posts. It is most often associated with these...

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I hope everyone has big plans today for getting sunburnt, eating watermelon, and watching fireworks. Me? I'm sitting in my very air conditioned apartment watching a show about redneks in Oklahoma noodling for fish. This is where they catch gigantic catfish using their hands as bait. It has really made me think about Europe a lot and how I wish I was there. I went to my Swedish chat site thing and started saving off pictures of guys with wicked awesome hair just in case my membership has an expiration date and I can't do this at a later date.

Lately it seems like everything that I'm about is for something in the future. I'm working on this future hair. I can't wait to get my future furniture in my future apartment. In reality, none of it will ever, ever happen given my current spending habits. I am down to like no money whatsoever and since I just paid my rent late (on account of this being a Sunday and tomorrow being a holiday ... FUCK!) I'm going to owe like an additional 100 bucks that I don't have. Frustration.

I spent all day yesterday painting Ryan S■■■'s apartment. We didn't get done but we did do a LOT. It looks totally awesome ... or rather it will, soon. I'll snap a pic of it sometime for all of you to see. Speaking of pictures, I got my Europe pictures back forever ago I just haven't had the patience to post them yet. I'll do that within the next year. Later skaters.

P.S. You all know my birthday is on Wednesday, the 6th, right? K

I have some advice for all of you who will be graduating soon and looking for full-time employment. Obtaining your dream job will not make your job a dream ... it will only make your dreams a job.

Sometimes I think up random shit and then I find myself to be unduly clever. Also, I like to make myself feel better about my non-existance. Coming back to work has been particularly difficult this week what with the deadlines and my apathy. I miss Sweden. I miss Germany. I miss socialists and liberals. Baseball and bar-be-que just hasn't quite filled the void.

I no longer have a roommate. Andy moved out on Wednesday. I totally thought he was leaving next Wednesday or I would have made more ado about it. Like friendship bracelets or something. But as it was, he gathered up his stuff and left Wednesday afternoon. I don't mean to sound sappy but I already miss him. I totally wanted to just go have a beer and a conversation tonight and I couldn't find anyone to join me. Travass eventually changed his mind about declining my invitation and absolutely saved the day, but still... it was nice to have a live-in drinking buddy. But now I've got two of my best friends with me -- Coors Light and Hedwig. What more can you honestly ask for?

I feel like I had a lot more planned for this entry, but I must have left those ideas back at the first beer. I'm sure they'll come back to me. Thank you for your understanding, but most of all, for your support.

For once, I am going to make good on a future-blog promise and tell you all about the dweeb we are here with. He has a lot of names, actually. Dweeb, Poindexter, Imp, and Alfred E. Newman. I wasn't aware of this fact, but apparently Alfred E. Newman is the name of the character on the front of MAD Magazine. This kid looks EXACTLY like him; I'm so not even kidding. Buckteeth, big ears, and stupid butt-cut hairdo. Normally I wouldn't make fun of someone for the way they look, but after two weeks, this kid is on my last fucking nerve. And you all know what a nice guy I am. Right? ... Right? Fuck you.

Everything I describe is probably going to sound really petty, but it's just one of those things where it wears on you and wears on you until he can do no right. I find myself disagreeing what whatever he says, just for the sake of disagreeing. So far on this trip, we have been doing a lot of drinking. I mean a lot of drinking, and yet, I have only been drunk once (Friday night). They just have a wealth of great beers and we've been stopping into a pub to enjoy a beer or two with Paul the Englishman. We knew we were in trouble the first night when Poindexter ordered water at the bar. "I'm not much of a drinker." He stared as us the entire time we were there until he finally excused himself early. He does that every night now, always in bed by 8. What a waste of a vacation. "Fancy that," Paul said, "Not even being able to enjoy one beer when he's in a pub."

We've made sure everyone here knows he's not a typical American. "He's not a typical anything," seems to be the common response. So he don't drink, he don't smoke, and he goes to bed early every night. Aight, whatever. He'd also never played pool before in his life. Now I'm no pool shark. Being as I grew up with a table maybe I should be, but I still warn people before I play them that I am "no good." So when he warned us he was "no good" I thought he meant he would miss some of the long shots, or suck at banking, or not really know how to use English on the cue ball. HA! If he knew HOW TO USE THE CUE BALL. This fool steps up to the table, grabs the cue stick about halfway down the shaft leaving a huge dead weight behind him he can barely control and takes aim at the 12 ball. Unfathomable. No matter how bad you are, you should at least know to hit the white ball.

Aight, whatev. Maybe biljards aren't his thing. So we play darts another night. Kid has never thrown a dart in his life nor does he have any concept of how to play. Incidentally, I am pretty good at darts now after playing almost every night with Keith and Paul. The other night we were at our favorite little bar here and this guy came in and asked if maybe he could play with us on teams. Sure, what the hell. This dude ends up being ranked like #8 in all of Scandinavia. It was the most incredible thing I've ever seen. We were playing cricket and he would close out like 3 numbers each turn. The guy could tell you where his dart was gonna go and it would go there. I can tell you which quadrant of the board I'll land in, not much more. Keith and Paul headed back to the hotel but I wanted to play more darts so I stayed out late learning from this guy. I improved my game like 100 fold. I was nailing 1 or 2 triple 20's every throw. It was fun.

This is going to be the longest blog ever. Bear with me. So now he's not much of a drinker, not much of a smoker, not much of a pool player, and not much of a darts player. These are starting to add up. But I guess that's cool that he likes to be responsible during the week. That's understandable. The weekends, though, that's when the fun begins. Foreign country, dude! What happens in Sverige, stays in Sverige, right? There's a casino here that I suggested maybe we could check out. Unfortunately, he's "not much of a gambler." Good fuckin' xrist. So I invited him out to Étage with me. He's "not much of a club goer." On Monday when he asked me how my weekend was I said, "Omega, crazy fun. You?" "Well... I don't know how crazy it was [ed: all condescending like] but I saw some parks and canals and really interesting stuff." The only thing homeboy did all weekend was walk around town like we've done a thousand times before. The parks are just empty squares scattered around town, and the canal is just a canal. Nothing to see there.

I don't care if somebody is a nerd, though, as long as they're cool. This guy is nothing of the sort. We went out pretty late on Thursday and that Friday I was a little late to breakfast, a little achy, and a little dehydrated and he says to me, "Heh, that's what you get for starting your weekend on Thursday," a reference to my earlier description of how often I drink which goes: "Monday is Funday, Tuesday is Boozeday, Wednesday is Humpday and Thursday starts the weekend!" If my head hadn't been swimming, I would have jumped over the table and beat him. Then the other day walking back from lunch, Keith and I were enjoying our post-meal cigarettes. He gets this smirk on his face. That's how you can tell he's about to say something that will inevitably be fucking stupid, but he thinks it's clever. He turns to us and says, "You know, I hear that lung cancer is a painful way to die." And I said, "You know, I hear running your fucking mouth is a painful way to die." ... Okay, I didn't say that but I did think of it later.

The four of us go to dinner together every night. It's the most painful part of the day because we have to sit there with the dweeb. He is such a conversation killer. Anything we talk about he kills by saying something retarded, so we generally eat in silence waiting for him to go back to the hotel and then we talk about our days. And we've all kind of taken a turn picking up the tab. We are expensing our meals so it's all free, and if you pick up the tab for a co-worker, that can go under entertainment expenses. And since the only things we really have to talk about are work-related, that's totally kosher. And since I've only paid for dinner about every third night, accounting will certainly notice that I've had my tab picked up other people enough to further justify my reciprocation. Right now you should be thinking to yourself, every third night? Didn't you say there were four of you?" Man, I can't get anything by you. Poindexter refuses to pick up a tab. We started noticing the pattern after the first week and talked about it after he left. We agreed he was OBVIOUSLY the most socially inept person alive so he probably didn't realize he needed to pick one up. So we blatantly said, "Alright dude, it's your turn tonight." And he refused!

He is afraid that he won't be able to expense it since it's entertainment, although I suspect he just has moral conflicts with paying for beer. But still, come on, we all work for the same fucking company, they WILL reimburse it. Especially if you haven't paid for a since dinner yet since you've been to Sweden. g*d, this kid pisses me off. He's just one of those people that when you catch him looking at you, you just kinda wanna smash his face in. But you don't because you are a pacifist.

You should see him at breakfast. It's one of the oddest things I've ever seen. Dude will get about 12 slices of bread ... all different kinds. And he'll proceed to eat them... dry... with nothing to drink. And when he's done with that, he gets up and gets a bowl full of this granola-nut-muesli cluster concoction. It's very hearty, European cereal. He proceeds to eat the whole bowl ... dry. I like it just fine, but I soak mine with milk for a while before I eat it or else I just feel like a horse. And when he's done with that, he gets up and gets a plate full of crackers... and eats them dry. He is so fucking weird.

He actually reminds me a lot of my fourth college roommate, Clark. He's got that same irritating manner about him, which leads me to suspect this kid is a hardcore x-tian. Thank jebus I only have to see him one more day, and then with any luck, never, never again.

What a weekend! I was livin' it up. I only have 20 minutes before we go get dinner so I'm going to type this as fast as I can. I'll proofread it later so keep your snotty comments to yourselves. Friday night, I went to Etage, this club that is in the big square in town. I heard from some people that it was pretty cool. They were open from 23-5. So I showed up around 11 because I wasn't quite certain how long it would take me to get there and I figured that with the club opening so late everyone would be lined around the block clawing to get in. WRONG. I was like the first person there.

So I sat and had a few beers by myself waiting for everyone to show up. All the clubs here have random gambling tables all around. Like you'll be going down the hall towards the bathroom and its like BAM BLACKJACK! It was very strange but a few people seemed to really enjoy themselves. I stayed away because I have a gambling problem -- my problem being that I suck at it. So there I am at the bar drinking Falcon after Falcon just waiting for somebody to talk to me. When it became evident nobody would, despite my magickal buttefly shirt, I started trying to mingle.

Yeah, people weren't really having it so when this Asian girl winked at me I was like eh, whatthefuck, I'll go talk to her. So I am sitting there with all these chicks from Thailand and I can barely understand a word they're saying. And they drag me out on the dance floor. I definitely did a little pole dancing with this chick up on stage. Tres fun. Then we sit back down at the table to drink some more and she shows me her passport. Specifically, she is pointing at the part that says MR. So I hung out all night with a Thai transsexual and had a really good time. I drank way too much, though, so as I was stumbling home, I see McDonalds like a beacon in the night. I mosdef stopped in at 5am to have a hamburger. I was so drunk I could barely get the words "Bic Mag" out.

I sure did pay for it the next day. One of the worst hangovers I've ever had. I didn't get out of bed until about 4. Then I went for a nice walk and got a nice dinner by myself. It was probably good that I stayed in bed so late because I had many adventures to await me. There aren't really any gay clubs here but there are clubs that have gay nights. And the big one, from what I could gather, was this party called Wonk every Saturday night at Deep. Deep is just a stone's throw from my hotel. But this time I've wised up, and I don't even venture out until 12:30. Surely I won't be the first person there. WRONG! I was the first person there. So I'm standing there alone drinking my beer when this old guy comes and talks to me. Meh, whatever, used to it.

Then the hottest guy I have ever seen walks in and I vowed to myself that I wouldn't leave until I got him. But I've got this elderly baggage, so I'm a little stuck. I tried to tire hime out on the dance floor but he just wouldn't get the hint. And he danced like an old guy. One weird thing they do is hand out candy at clubs. Like a dude with this shirt off comes around with a tray of gummi candies and everyone grabs a handful. So weird. But they had dropped a whole tray right on the dance floor so my shoes are super sticky. Anyway, eventually the old guy tires out and leaves around 3am. This is when I decide to venture up to the karaoke room because I'd watched a little earlier and it was cracking me up.

Wouldn't you know it, the hottest guy ever is sitting on this ottoman watching the show, so I go plop down next to him. I was laughing my ass off because these four girls kept singing a song and the chorus was something "SLUT." And they just keep yelling "SLUT." It was pronounced [sloot] but still funny to me. So I lean over to the hottest guy ever and say, "I have no idea what they're saying but I sure do think its funny." And his eyes lit up and he was like "Where are you from?!" He's one of the first Swedes to give a fuck where I'm from. They're all very unimpressed. So now I've scored 10,000 points for being an American and we're getting along just swimmingly. We're talking and laughing and clappin. I tried to sing along and sound out the words and he thought that was pretty funny. Well... I guess we were having too much fun at other people's expense because the next thing I know, I have a finger pointed at me.

That finger is attached to the biggest person I have ever seen. This is a 7'6" stacked drag queen named Wonk (the namesake of the party) with blonde hair down past her butt ... and she is motioning me on stage. So the hottest guy ever (henceforth to be refered to by his name Rickard -- the k's here do weird things, so it's actually pronounced just like Richard) kind of shoves me up there and I oblige. She says a whole bunch in Swedish and then sticks the microphone in my face and I say, "Uhhhhh ... well, this is my first time to Malmo but it's a lovely city, everyone's just been great." And everyone kinda cheers and she says, "What is your name and where are you from?"

"Okay David from America, I know what you sing. You sing it now. I hope you know it." And I'm like uhhhhh, so do I. Next thing you know, the intro to Don McLean's "American Pie" is on and I start singing it. I'm a little shaky at first but once I found the key I started belting it. I mean belting it. And I knew all the words so I didn't have to stare at the screen, so then I start working the crowd a little. Mind you, it is now like 3:30am and I am a little intoxicated. And I get everyone singin along and I'm singin my little heart out. You all know how much I hate to toot my own horn, but I was pretty good ... probably Grammy quality. So now Rickard is doubly impressed.

Then we go downstairs and talk a while. I bought us some cigarettes out of a machine but I'd never heard of any of them so I just guessed. I ended up guessing his favorite cigarettes so now he's triply impressed. They were called Prince and I told him I'd never had a Prince before. He replied, "You've got one tonight." Zing! Double entendres in a second language, kudos to him!

Then the club started playing slow music. Slow dancing at a gay club? Who woulda thunk. As we were slow dancing which was way too fun, this guy just barrels right through us. And I yell, "HEJ!" and Rickard shoves him, and then he turns around and shoves me. The majority of my bloodstream at this point consists of ethanol and testosterone, so I'm like ready to go. Luckily the Swedes are a peace loving people but I don't think Rickard missed the fact that I'd jumped up to protect him. Can we say quadrupily impressed? Probably like dodechedrimpressed.

The club let out at 5, and Rickard walked me back to my hotel. It was only a block but still a very nice gesture. Yadda yadda yadda, it was a fabulous weekend and I almost wish I could be here another weekend. Stupid me I didn't get his phone number or anything, so I guess that's the last time I'll see him. Oh well, it was worth it.

That's all for now, more anecdotal shit and stories about the douchebag another time. Just had to get that out for your pleasure and my journal. Peace, my sluts!

I am going to officially change the spelling of my name from Deighvyd to Dävid. Not only does it look cooler but it would be grammatically correct here. They have all kinds of vowels that we don't have: ä, ö, ü, å, ø. We have all the vowel sounds, but our vowels can completely change their pronunciation based on the letters before and after them. Theirs are always the same, which is why they needed a few extras. The only one I've figured out is the å which actually has a long 'O' sound. If I get lucky later, I may be showin' my å face. å! å! å!

I spent a lot of money today on plane tickets. I'm really leaving Malmö next Friday and heading right for Paris. Then to Berlin. Then back to Copenhagen. I am so nervously excited. It's still a ways away though and I've gotten a lot of great advice on how to travel. It should be really sexcellent to get around a little bit. Although I spent a lot, it was a lot less than I thought I was going to have to spend. My ticket from Berlin to Copenhagen was €16, which is under 20 bucks. Score! I am flying on the Southwest Airlines of Europe. Should be interesting. I gotta find hotels now. Money, money, money. Speaking of, I FINALLY heard some ABBA at the hockey game last night. I had assumed it would be the only music they played here and was sorely disappointed to find out I was wrong.

I'm about to head out to a Biljard hall now with Keith and Paul, and the little douchebag that it is here with us. I'll have to tell you all about the douchebag later, he's a blog unto himself. He is the dark cloud on the this silver lining of a vacation. Anyway, so I gotta run, just wanted to fill you in on a couple more things. Läääääääääääääääte.

I just got back from a hockey game. What a great idea that is. Go to a freezing ass country and then sit in a room with a huge slab of ice. Sheesh. It ended up being fun because the Malmo Redhawks won 11 to 2. They supposedly aren't very good, but they spanked this other team. I've been under my covers in the hotel for about an hour now and I'm still not thawed out.

The hotel room is pretty warm at all times. They don't really have air conditioning here. They just keep all their buildings warm, and then if you get too hot, you open a window. It works pretty well, especially in a country when its not 105 outside. Another difference is the light switches. Their switches are like the size of our base plates. Makes sense I guess. No reason to make the switch so small. And the toilets -- you don't push down on a level, you pull up on a button on top of the toilet. Same concept, just different. Everything here is just different enough to keep it interesting ... and make you have to pause to figure it out.

Everyone in Sweden smokes. Really, I think its just that everyone in Europe smokes. And you can smoke just about anywhere. When we got off the plane in Zurich, the first thing we did was try to find a smoking room. We slowly started noticing that people walking through the airport were smoking. A far cry from DFW, that's for sure.

It seems my employment luck is international. I got assigned to the team that really isn't doing much. I've mostly just been hanging out and eating great lunches before cutting out a little early. I am trying to find out what I'm going to do this weekend and wouldn't you know it, Stino just told me he has a friend in Malmo. He's going to email him for me and see if he'll be my tour guide. That would pretty much kickass if it worked out.

I am watching MTV Europe's version of Jackass. It's these four guys that put Bam and Steve-o to shame. They just waxed this guy's balls and they showed the whole thing, full frontal. That's really the only nudity I've seen so far. With any luck this weekend, it won't be the last.

I don't think I've mentioned Paul yet. Paul is this English guy who is here for the same thing we are. He's really cool. He's like a real live Englishman. He tells us to "fancy" things ... something I will definitely try to get started in the states. Fancy that, another new word for my rotation.

Damnit, I have a thousand more stories, but this will have to do for now. Although the time stamp will read 4pm, its really 11 for me and I still have to shower and then flat iron my hair with my new swedish flat iron ... it was worth all 400 Kroner. Laaaaaaate.

I have accumulated about a month's worth of blogs every day that I have been here. If I don't dispense some of this gold, I am just going to burst! First, some observations about Sweden:

The Swedes are not an unfriendly people by any means, but they are very ... unengaging, shall we say? If you pass by somebody on the street, they will avert their eyes to avoid eye contact. We view that as somewhat rude, and therein lies the cultural difference. The way we pass by a complete stranger and say, "How ya durrin?" would be viewed by a Swede as insulting because it was completely insincere. You don't really care how that person is doing, nor do you even pause to listen for an answer. So it makes sense, but it sure is hard to get used to.

Everyone here is bilingual at least. Everyone speaks English, perfectly ... and Americanly. They all speak Swedish to me initially, which I take as a compliment because it means I have long, beautiful blonde hair, but as soon as I reply in English, they don't even blink, they just switch over. Last night a bum rambled something incoherent to me in Swedish and I said, "Sorry, I don't speak Swedish," and chuckled to myself for being clever. He immediately replied, "Do you have any crowns?" I was impressed. Today a drunk-ass gypsy Arab with a tallboy on the bus was rambling something and then started yelling, "My g*d is my g*d," to which somebody from the back of the bus replied, "There is no g*d." Fuckin A.

Today I noted to Joakim, who was showing us around (incidentally, Joakim is a common name) that there were no Swedish flags flying. In the US we have one American flag for every city block. He told me that flying the Swedish flag is interpreted as you being a racist. Everyone is supposed to be equal in Sweden to the point that you're not allowed to be proud of anything, in his words. I guess it would be akin to flying the Confederate flag in the US, except that actually literally 100% means you are a racist. But still, same reaction.

So Sweden is a socialist country, which is where the attitude that everyone should be completely equal comes from. They have a tax rate of something like 50%, which is unfathomable to us. But, healthcare is all free, higher education is all free, everything like that is free. If you want to go to college, you just sign up. The other thing that high tax rate does is even out everyone's income. The more you make, the more you get taxed, so everyone is pretty much on par. Unless you're extremely wealthy, then you probably net the same income as the waiters (who btw, make real wages, so tipping is extremely rare -- also hard habit to break).

Everyone looks and dresses like a rockstar. If any one of these guys would come to America, they could get laid on demand for the rest of their lives. I wonder if they know that. They probably have grown up thinking they were rather average. The styles over here are incredible. If I could dress like a Swede I would be oh so popular. First things first, I gotta get some brightly colored shoes. They also have cool jackets, although, if I wore mine more than 3 weeks out of the year, I might get a cool one too.

I haven't slept since I got here. For whatever reason, I go to bed around 10 and wake up at 1am every night and then stare at the ceiling until morning. It's starting to take it's toll. I've tried drinking myself to sleep; I might try sobering myself to sleep tonight. One way or another I have got to get some rest or I'm going to die.

I have about 8 million more stories to tell you, but these were the first that came to mind. Just one more thing to share, though, as the cardinals in the vatican meet to elect a new pope. I really feel like the office of the pope is such a huge responsibility spanning so many countries, cultures, and people. How can one man hold such a title? Maybe they should consider having a group act as pope this time. They could pull one person from each walk of life, a whole mixture of beliefs and backgrounds. And they could call it pope-pourri.

What a long, strange trip it's been. Okay, maybe just long. I got to Sweden with very little trouble. I am in my hotel room now around 7:30pm after having been up since Saturday morning. I am so tired, but I have had a lot of fun today. I am traveling with my coworker, Keith, just to get that out of the way. I'm sure a lot of my stories will involve him. We had breakfast in Zurich which consisted of a liter of Heinekin each and a handful of cigarettes. Gots to expense that shit!

The 10 hour flight was quite trying, but I made it though with a little bit of sleep. It didn't help that when I did fall asleep, I dreamt that we had already arrived. Then I woke up and realized there were 7 more hours to go. We hung out in Zurich for about 3 hours and then took a 2 hour flight to Copenhagen. I slept all the way through that flight. Then we rode a train into Malmo, Sweden. We decided to walk from the train station to our hotel which ended up being quite a ways. I immediately dropped my shit and went walking around. I found a place to buy a flat iron tomorrow. Mine won't work here, and my voltage converter won't work with it either. It is a necessity. Gots to expense that shit!

Let me tell you one thing about Sweden. If I were to rank the 100 hottest guys I'd ever seen in my life, on TV, in movies, and in person ... all 100 of those spots would be occupied by someone I saw in Malmo today. Everyone here is beautiful -- blond hair, blue eyes, tall, just gorgeous. I am a little bit overstimulated. And the women are pretty slammin' as well. Being in Malmo makes me say, "Miami who?" I have already decided that I want to live here. Everyone speak fluent English, even the teenagers working at Subway, which is where we ate dinner. They all start of speaking Swedish to me, which I take as a compliment because they I'm Swedish, but as soon as I order in English they switch effortlessly. It's incredible. This place is so Americanized, yet so different. I need to make some more observations before I assert that.

I took a few pictures today but I am seriously falling asleep on the keyboard so I might post some tomorrow. So far so good though! This place kicks so much ass.

UPDATE: I totally forgot to mention. I met John McKay from the news in the airport in Zurich. He was on his way to Roma to cover JP Deuce's funeral. I know so many celebs. And in other news, NOW MY HAIRDRYER DIED. God damnit, first the Pizzope, now my blow dryer. Why have you turned your back on us, oh lord?

In 12 hours I will board a plane bound for Zurich, catch a connection to Copenhagen, and then catch a train to Malmo, Sweden. There is supposedly internet access in the rooms and I will have my work computer with me, so I should be able to keep this site updated. I will also be available via email, my personal one is probably best (SideshoViD@sideshovid.com) but if it's very important, you can use my work address, which is Myfirstname [dot] Mylastname @ TheCompanyIWorkFor.com. Fill in the blanks, please don't send email to that exact address. Sweden is 7 hours in the future compared to the states, so factor that in.

Wish me here. Here goes nothin.

My new niece could not have been cuter. She is so, so tiny. She has a full head of hair that is probably the softest thing I have ever felt. I got her a green outfit for her birthday because I didn't want her to get pinched next Thursday. She's just a baby, for g*d's sake. It's not nice to pinch babies. She's too young for beer, but maybe my sis will be festive and feed her green breast milk.

That was gross, sorry. Not much else of note going on over here. I'm counting the days until Sweden just trying not to get fired before then. Tomorrow is the day Home and Garden will call me and let me know that I've won this years 3.5 million dollar dream home in Tyler, TX, along with the new Chevy Denali (sp?) and the $250,000 in cash. I can't wait to move in. I mean I entered like 10 times, so I'm a total shoo-in.

This'll be like the time I won an enormous stuffed animal from the dentist named Kiki. One time, I said to my brother, "Let's play beat the Kiki! I get the stick!" and took one swing at the enormous koala bear with the dowel rod we used to protect us from someone opening our bedroom window. One swing and the eye broke in half and rolled away. I was so upset. I didn't hit a baseball in 4 seasons, but I can crack an eyeball with a dowel rod in one try.

Why is it that tomorrow is spelled t-o-m-o-r-r-o-w but I abbreviate it as "tomm?"

I think I've decided to get a tattoo. Which I probably shouldn't tell you all because my brother will read and tell my mother and she will go absolutely ape-shit. But as of yet, I don't know what I want or where. So I'll entertain your suggestions, as long as your suggestions entertain me.

Thanks for all the great comments on my new layout, bitches! *makes masturbatorial motion*

I am twice the uncle I was yesterday morning. My second niece, Ann Marie, was born yesterday evening around 5:30pm. Maybe I should call her my "youngest" niece instead of my "second" niece. I really don't want to set up a hierarchy until they are old enough to do gymastics and spelling bees and such.

This is my sister's first baby. From what I hear all are doing well, and she is happy and healthy with 10 fingers, 10 toes, and a full head of black hair.

Black hair?! That's right. This kid is not a F■■■■. I am leaving bright and early tomorrow morning to go meet Ann Marie. Living equidistant from your two child-having siblings has its advantages. I need to go down and see my brother and Kaylyn (and Rachel) soon. Maybe I'll do that just as soon as I get back from Sweden.

So that means no craziness for me tonight. It gives me a convenient excuse to stay home and work on my new layout, which I would have done anyway, but now people won't judge me as harshly. I'm hoping to finish it tonight, but there's a chance I won't. Then I'll be in OKC all day tomorrow possibly returning tomorrow night to attend a very 1Miles birthday celebration. We'll see how it pans out. Hope you kids have a good weekend!

My new roommate, Andy, moved in on Saturday. It's only been a few days, but it's been pretty fun having a roommate again. There are pros and cons to both styles of living, naturally, but its nice to have someone to watch TV with, someone to motivate you to eat less and workout more, and someone who goes to bed at a decent hour, so I do also. Andy is a coworker of mine who got hired at the same time as me but works in Houston. He's here for about 10 weeks for training, but I'll be in Europe for the middle three of those weeks, so it's really just like 3 and 3.

He's a personal trainer in his free time, so he took me to 24 Hour Fitness these past two days to give me a few work out hints. It was really informative, but g*d, I hated pretending that I was going to sign up for a membership, so I'm not going anymore. I gave them a fake number and the fucking guy tried to call me today to tell me about some great deals, so I was totally busted when we walked in. I continued lying through my teeth about it being a real number. I felt so much like Thommi.

I am really trying to lose 10 pounds before I go to Sweden. That is totally doable, according to my live-in trainer, but I think it involves not being a gluttonous pig. Maybe I should just learn to love myself the way I am, since I simultaneously find myself entirely too skinny and entirely too fat. But it doesn't really fucking matter when I wrap myself up in my brand new wardrobe. I went on a bit of a spree this weekend with my personal shopping assistant, Mr. Sean W■■■■. A cool grand later, I have some kickass new clothes to wear to the office at headquarters. I also got this jacket that makes me weak in the knees ... from Source Paris, of course. You wish you had this jacket.

I feel like I had a lot more to say before I started. A phone call from JennyC■■■ and a phone call from 27 confirmed the fact that I have nothing to say. Both of them abruptly ended our conversations when I sat silently with the phone to my ear. I promise to fill you all in when I have something to say.

Tonight a friend of mine was having her birthday party at Republic, a bar in Uptown. I almost didn't go, but at the last minute, sitting around my apartment, I jumped in the shower (despite that being SO dangerous) and got to the party around midnight. I have some stories that might be slightly embarassing, so to protect the innocent, we'll just call my friend "Amanda" (because that's her name). It was the first time I've been to a bar since we began this experiment. The temptation to drink was high, but not insurmountable. I eventually had to get a double tonic and tonic with a twist of lime so I'd have something to do with my hands.

Amanda was making me a tad uncomfortable. I have a few observations about drunk people that I will henceforth dispense for your reading pleasure. Drunk people may intend to whisper, but in fact are quite audible. One of her friends made a comment about some guy being gay, and Amanda said to me, "That's the pot callin' the kettle black!" The guy then turned to ME and says, "What is that supposed to mean?" I was like what the hell, I didn't say anything. So I played it dumb answering each of his questions with a question. He eventually got distracted. Some of my other favorite "whispered" messagers were, "That guy has a whooooole lot of facial structure going on," and, "That girl's entire bra is hanging out!" Each of them resulted in me getting a dirty look.

Another thing I noticed is that drunk people all stand too close and are all close talkers. I was doing all I could to do the stance where you put all your weight on your back foot and portrude your other leg out creating a boundary they cannot penetrate. Then you lean way back to get a couple more inches of clearance. Of course, this exacerbates the first problem of saying things too loudly.

Drunk people also like to drag you into uncomfortable situations. Amanda was there with a guy she's been dating for like 8 months. When she went to the restroom, he told me about how their mutual office was having a couples night out, and when Amanda got the email about it she replied saying she was single. He wanted me to explain what she was doing. Now, I've known this girl for the majority of my life but I've probably talked to her a total of 4 times in the past 6 years. Hardly credentials for decyphering her relationship for her "boyfriend." Very uncomfortable.

I had a nice time though and I wish her the best on her second 23rd birthday. Tomorrow I might go out to the gay bars. I miss my friends. First, I'm hoping to do some serious shopping in preparation of Sweden. I need to be around to give my new roommate his key sometime tomorrow. Oh, did I forget to mention that I have a roommate now? Laaaaaaate.

Bonsoir, mes amis! Wie geht es ihnen? Jag hoppa det du er all gör brunn. This past week I bought CDs for French, German and Swedish so I could get a head start on learning all the languages I'll need during my European adventure. I already speak German, and Swedish is (from what I know thus far) a lot like it. So really, I'm just trying to pick up some basic French phrases to get a hotel room and a menu. Good times, good times. You don't want to ride in the car with me though. It's totally annoying. But I should be quadri-lingual by April.

This weekend I went to a party at Adam's house up in Denton. Good christ, Denton is far away. It was a pretty big milestone for me because it was the first time I've subjected myself to some good old fashioned binge drinking that I know and love so much without partaking. They were all downing cheap beers and chain smoking and I wanted to participate sooo bad, but I resisted. And not only did I stay clean, but I had a really good time hanging out and getting to know people I'd never met before. Maybe I do still have social skills, and I just never let myself realize it.

This is off topic, but I have to ask. What the hell is up with fat, old men in the gym locker rooms? It's like they refuse to put some fucking clothes on. I guess their wives won't let them walk around naked at home so they do it at the gym? It is so weird. If you're a fat old man who reads my webpage and walks around naked in locker rooms, please fill me in cause you're all making me nauseous.

Speaking of the gym, if things continue to go as well as they have with Febrehabruary, I plan on partying March 1st and then going right back to my sober ways. I am saving so much money and losing so much weight. I could never have fathomed that it would go this well.

Ryan S■■■ sent me an article about people being fired from their jobs based on what they say in their blogs. It kind of put the fear of g*d in me. My webpage is laden with material that should rightfully lead to my termination. I think I'm going to go through and hide some of the entries for the time being while I figure this out. In the meantime, I'm going to refrain from discussing work explicitly and avoid mentioning any projects I'm working on by name if I do. Hope it doesn't leave you all wanting.

Now, I am still drenched in sweat from yoga, so it is time to showah. Peace, you have-nots.

I found out today that my trip to Sweden is a definite. I have to buy a plane ticket by the end of the week departing on April 2nd. I'm way too excited. But see, the thing is, I figured as long as I'm in the neighborhood, there is no sense in not seeing some of Europe. How often do you get to fly across the pond for free, right? So instead of returning to the USofA on April 16th after two weeks of new product testing, I'll be returning sometime around April 21st. That'll give me 5 days to gallivant around Germany and France.

I've never been a big sight seer, as anyone who has ever vacationed with me will know. So my only two goals, in reality, are to eat sausage and saurkraut with mustard in Germany washed down with a nice tall Weissbier, and to have a croissant and a glass of red wine in France. I hope they serve Messina Hof.

The reason I need everyone's advice is to ask what else I should do while I'm there. Keep in mind that if I want to SEE something, I will google it. I am looking for things to DO. This could also affect how long I decide to stay. I'm still trying to get ahold of my friends in Germany which would be awesome. But that would mean I am going to Munich again when I'd really like to see Berlin.

I dunno. Maybe afterwards I'll go to Bed, Bath & Beyond, I dunno if I'll have time.